


Seperated

by CowboysandPanties



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Blood As Lube, Gore, Knifeplay, M/M, Minor death, Parent/Child Incest, snufkin gets lost in the woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 11:08:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19004539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CowboysandPanties/pseuds/CowboysandPanties
Summary: Searching with Moomin to look for Snorkmaiden, Snufkin gets lost and is preyed upon by a familiar feral man. His ambition becomes as clear as day, Snufkin didn't have a chance.





	Seperated

**Author's Note:**

> There have been so many warnings if you bitch in the comments you weak. There is INCEST. BLOOD. Stuff like that. This was a commission from a friend and I hope he likes it! I don't often write gore so I did my best uwu

It was a quiet day until Moomin came hollering. Snufkin had been wrapped up nicely in a thin but cozy blanket, sleeping in for once after a long night of sign picking. He had to work double time at this rate, signs cropping up faster than weeds. With a shake of his head, Snufkin sat up, crawling to the exit of his tent and folding the lips back. His eyes met Moomin’s, all bright, large, and oh so round. 

“Why, what’s the matter, Moomin?” Snufkin stood, brushing himself off and returning his attention to his distressed friend. Moomin jumped up to his height, soft pants coming from his mouth. 

“It’s Snorkmaiden!” Moomin cried, his small hands resting on his best friend’s green coat and squeezing tight. “What about her, Moomin?” Snufkin quirked a brow, resting one hand on Moomin’s to try and calm him. The Moomintroll glanced nervous back behind him to the forest, then back to Snufkin’s dead eyes. “She’s gone! Moominpapa and Moominmama have both helped Snork look everywhere! We just can’t find her Snufkin! She’s really gone,” he sobbed, burying his face into the Mumrik’s shoulder as he contemplated. “Gone? She couldn’t have gone that far, Moomin. Are you sure she isn’t down by the beach collecting shells again?” Snufkin suggested, watching as Moomin leaned back and shook his head no, rubbing his eyes. “Enough of that, it’ll be alright.”

“Are you sure, Snufkin?”

A small smile pulled his thin lips, “Why, of course I am.”

It had been a little over two hours when Snufkin found himself alone In the dreary woods. That awful pit of loneliness was boiling in his stomach, burning and charring everything inside of him. He turned, looking at a fairly large tree and trying to find any remarkable details to pull from his memory bank, sighing when- yet again- he couldn’t recall where he was. How had Moomin gotten lost so quickly? He was always by his side, rarely drifted, so why now of all times? Snufkin sighed as he pulled out a pipe, a hand carved one given to him by Moominpapa a long time ago, and lit it. Kissing the mouth of it he huffed softly after breathing in as he leaned against a dark brown tree, trying to smoke out his worries. 

A gentle rustle of leaves was enough to stir the Mumrik from his nicotine-induced sleepy-haze, dark eyes flittering up for a moment under his hat.

He met a similar pair, coupled with a similar hat, and an oddly similar coat. However, the eyes were so much brighter but gleamed with such a dark intent. A shudder rolled up the young Mumrik’s spine, an odd feeling that didn’t sit right with him. Snufkin could easily tell who it was the second he saw him- or smelled him if he hadn’t been looking- but there was still a seed of doubt within him, like he was imagining it. So, he waited for Joxter to either speak to him or fade away like the hallucination he figured him to be. For a few minutes neither happened, until the maybe real Joxter took a few steps forward, head tilting slightly and showing a small patch of graying fur crawling up his lean neck. “It’s not polite to stare, you know,” Snufkin remarked, tired of keeping his eyes peeled open. He turned forward again, lifting the pipe to his lips and taking a deep breath in like he had seen Moominpapa do so many times before, letting his eyes close so he could be alone and the Joxter could decide whether he would approach him or fade away. But of course, unlike his many dreams that included the Mumrik, he was a solid figure that lingered. Joxter hadn’t approached him quite yet, making the hairs on the back of Snufkin’s neck stand- he could feel the eyes on him, the weight they carried.

It felt foreign and unnerving, like Snufkin was supposed to be hiding but he hadn’t been- and now he was caught. This Mumrik- his father- seemed to be on the prowl and Snufkin had drifted too far to be saved. His heartbeat skipped-

Has he found Moomin?

“Papa,” Snufkin started, opening his dark eyes and turning his head towards the slightly taller man only ten feet away. Cold settled like stones in his stomach, a burning cold that made him twist inside as their eyes locked. “Have you seen Moomin?” He asked, pretending this was alright, that they might as well be having a morning tea together. Joxter smiled, lips barely parting to show hints of bright white teeth. 

“No, Snufkin, I haven’t.” He began to crawl forward, the foliage above them providing a cool shade. “I see you though, on your own.”  
“I am.”  
“No Moomins? Nor Hemulens, pesky Little My’s or Sniff?” The Joxter breathed, eyes narrowing down at him as Snufkin realized how close he had come, breath tickling his nose and cheeks. His hand raised, creeping up the light green coat, knotting itself in the even lighter green scarf. “A lonely little Snufkin, all to a Joxter’s self? What a lucky find.” 

The tight pull sent the smaller Mumrik into Joxter’s chest and without a sound his breath was stolen. Not by surprise, but by two thin lips, devouring his own similar ones. A garbled and hushed sound erupted from his throat but Joxter didn’t mind, his other hand clutching the small of Snufkin’s back and digging the tips of his fingers into him. Snufkin’s head was tilted back and to the side, teeth attacking his lips and pulling strange sounds from him that he couldn’t quite help- but it seemed to make Joxter more frantic. The jumbled up moan of “papa” fell from his lips into Joxter’s as he tried to turn his head away, his father only catching up each time to reclaim his lips.

When his back hit the ground he realized Joxter had been searching, hunting, and he had found exactly what he wanted. Snufkin shuffled, squeezing his hands in the tight space between them but the Joxter grabbed them, flattening them against the grass as he bit his way into his mouth. Joxter’s tongue thrusted between his lips, almost suffocating him as he settled between Snufkin’s thighs, heavy pelvis against his own. 

Movements rough and jagged, his own father began rutting against him. Snufkin screamed against his lips, trying to call out for Moominpapa, for anyone, for help. The Joxter pulled away with a disgusting wet sound and leaned down to his son’s ear, a hot breath sending a shiver down his spine and to his toes. “You can cry all you want, little one. In a forest as thick as this, no one will hear one small Snufkin scream.” His tongue traced the shell of Snufkin’s ear before dipping into the ear canal, making the smaller of the two jump and cry- jerking his hips against Joxter’s. “Now, be good for daddy and stay put, alright?” 

“Now why would I do that!” Snufkin panted, scrambling to a sitting position when Joxter let go of his wrists. Strong hands gripped his cloak and pushed it up to his chest, cool blade meeting the dip of his hip- turning Snufkin’s blood cold and his muscles frozen. 

“I’ll kill you, Snufkin. If you don’t listen to me, I’ll gut you like Snorkmaiden.” Joxter’s eyes bore into Snufkin’s soul as they stared, unblinking. He swallowed, throat dry, and refused to vomit as his stomach twisted and turned. 

“You… You killed Snorkmaiden?” The words seemed dastardly on his tongue- illegal and wrong- impossible. It was an awful nightmare wrapped up in the Joxter before him, a disgusting package. “I did kill Snorkmaiden.” Joxter nodded, pressing the knife further into his skin, “I figured- how to get a Snufkin alone? Well, a Snufkin doesn’t care about to much- but Moomin cares quite a bit about a Snorkmaiden, doesn’t he?” A frown pulled Snufkin’s lips, he had felt rather awful about how much attention Snorkmaiden could sometimes get from his beloved friend. “And,” The Joxter continued, trailing the knife down and digging it through his trousers- cutting the skin as well, “A Snufkin of mine cares an awful lot about a Moomin, so what better way to get you here?”  
“You know you could have just visited-“  
The knife twisted into his skin, silencing the younger of the two as a small line of blood trickled down his pale thigh. Joxter watched his face intently, drinking up every small cry and hushed breath that left quivering lips. Nimble, dark, fur covered fingers tugged at loose seams and stripped away the rest of his pants. Snufkin watched with an almost dazed expression as his clothing fell away, making him bare except the briefs that still held strong. Snufkin’s hands had made it to the grass, fingers curling around thin blades and squeezing tight. “Now,” Joxter slowly cut open the left side of the undergarment, hand smearing the blood on his thigh, “what would Moomin do without you, Snufkin? Surely Snorkmaiden can be forgotten, but you-“ There was a strange look in Joxter’s eyes, something so sickly fond it made Snufkin’s urge to vomit worsen. “You’re too special.” His fingers slowly crept the briefs away, discarded on the ground. Snufkin didn’t look down at himself, feeling ashamed as his father slid his thighs open and slotted himself closer. He could feel the heat radiate from the front of his pants, contrasted when a cold knife rested on his tummy.

Snufkin jumped, letting out a whiny gasp as Joxter trailed it up to his chest, pressing down quickly and tearing the skin all the way to his bellybutton. 

Snufkin screamed for a long time. 

Joxter didn’t mind it, knowing it came with the territory as he lazily rutted against his son, sliding his hand up the wound and pressing Snufkin down onto his back through sobs and shakes. The cuts stung so badly, the skin feeling as if it were curling, trying to put itself back together. Snufkin tried to push Joxter away, nails digging into his chest as he kicked at him, but the Joxter simply pressed one of his arms down- followed by the plunge of a knife. Snufkin’s back curled and arched, spit flying from his mouth as tears fell heavy from his eyes like an autumn rain. He panted and cried as he turned his head to look at the assault, disbelief fueling him as he tried to assess what had actually happened. But it was there- the small dagger was plunged through his bicep into the ground. Snufkin knew he couldn’t pull it out- his eyes snapping back to the Joxter who began unclothing himself in a slow and relaxed manner. He could only watch, letting out another cry when fingers a little larger than his own trailed from the bloody cut in his hip to his taint, then his ass. The blood was fairly cool now and felt revolting against his most sensitive parts, being slowly shoved inside as Joxter went one knuckle in deep.

“Papa… Papa please, don’t.” 

“Sh…” Joxter used his free hand to caress Snufkin’s cheek, pushing his finger in further against the rings of muscles that fought back. 

“I love you, Snufkin.”

“P-Papa…” He cried, vision blurry as he groaned and whined, back arching as the intrusion deepened and the pain in his wounds skyrocketed. The Joxter moved his hand down to the handle of the knife, eyes locked on his. 

“I love you, Snufkin.” 

He twisted the hand and yanked down, cutting through muscle and fat as he rammed the rest of his finger in then lazily pumped it. Snufkin twisted and turned, screaming once again for help, but would he even want his friends to see him like this? Of course he wanted to be saved, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to ever stand before Moomin again if he had just so happen to walk across this- to see him so wounded and small. Snufkin gasped for breath as the Joxter scissored him open, occasionally dipping his red stained fingers in blood for extra ease. Snufkin was surprised he could feel pleasure at all- or maybe it was the loss of blood and fog in his head that made him moan as his father’s fingers dragged down against his inner walls. “How wonderful you are, Snufkin.” Joxter cooed, slipping his hand to Snufkin’s cock and jerking him off poorly while he fingered him open, adding another and forcing his way through. Snufkin was horrified how much he liked the stretch, how he wasn’t just dead yet and was forced to suffer through this whole process. The Joxter seemed pleased with his work, pulling his fingers out and guiding his already hard dick to Snufkin’s asshole, smeared with his own blood. Joxter rested the leaking head against him before sending him a thoughtful look. “I love you, Snufkin. Maybe after all of this we can have a bit to drink, hm?” Snufkin watched him through teary eyes, freehand dug into the dirt for stability as his legs twitched around his papa. 

A slow and dragged out thrust broke him. It should have been the simple fact that this was happening at all- or that his father was the one doing it, but it wasn’t. It was the long stretch of his ass adjusting for Joxter to settle in as they shared bodies for this moment, it was his cut open arm, almost severed had it not been for bone. It was Joxter, pumping his cock and fucking into him with such a slow and burning passion he almost could have loved it. It was the squelch of blood from each fuck, and the way he cried out Joxter’s name repeatedly. 

Joxter reached up, leaning over Snufkin as he picked up the pace and rested his hand beside his head, the other moving to the open wound in his arm and touching it carefully, like he was afraid to hurt him. The fingers grew curious and slipped in, kissing blood, tissue, fat, and scraped against bone. Snufkin could only sob and sob, snot leaking from his nose as his body nearly bent in half from Joxter’s powerful thrusts. It felt good- too good to be true, and Snufkin was so sure he was dying and being given one more pleasant feeling before he went- but it was reality as Joxter forced him harder into the ground and came inside of him. His lips bruised his own as he continued to pump his seed into him, the pleasure becoming indescribable and crashing Snufkin head first into his orgasm, sperm spilling onto his own cut-up stomach and seeping into the wounds. It should have burned, but Snufkin honestly couldn’t have felt better lying in a pool of semen and blood. The Joxter slowly pulled out, knowing smile on his face as he dug the knife out and slipped it away somewhere. He kissed Snufkin softly, sweetly, Snufkin could have said he was in love.

“I love you, Snufkin.”

“I love you too, papa…”

In fact, he did.


End file.
